


Advent Calender: Crashing The Net

by StringTheori



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - University, M/M, Slow Build, So many tropes, athlete!bucky, deaf!Clint, fake boyfriends, hipster!Steve, hockey related injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringTheori/pseuds/StringTheori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is written on my 15 minute break at work, twice a day, and dedicated to 12 Days (Fundamentally).</p>
<p>Bucky is the star player of the university hockey team. Steve is the friends to literally everyone else on the team and the commentator. Bucky has never met Steve until he ends up off the ice due to injury.</p>
<p>Friendship, coffee shops, schooling things, hockey, and fake boyfriends to follow. Tags and couples will also be added as they appear. Chapters may be tweaked for sports accuracy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the advent calender for 12 Days (Fundamentally)! My roommate, coworker, and seducer into the world of hockey. I was going to do Hockey!AU for NaNo but, alas, real life. Instead, I'll be posting one or two chapters a day with shorts written on my 15 minute break at work.
> 
> Thus, they will be short with spelling errors to be fixed when I get home. Other tropes include: university, fake boyfriends, sports, coffee shops, and friendship to romance.

"You're going to love him," Sam says. He drapes his arms over Steve's slight shoulders and has a smile so wide it put the sun to shame. Steve goes with the situation, nods at the appropriate places, lets himself be pulled about. Hell, he even let himself be all hooked up on a blind date - a blind meeting. "I know you're just getting into the commenting thing with our team and he's a new guy, but Bucky is just your type and nice about it."  
  
"It disturbs me that you know my type," Steve says in a mumble that is lost to the dull roar of the party. Sam pulls him into the quasi mosh pit of parties at the Stark Dorm. Officially it is the Technological Institution A Dorm. Everyone Steve knows refuse to acknowledge the name. Too long, too boring. "You said it's Bucky?"  
  
"Of course it's Bucky, man. We've all seen you go googley eyed at him."  
  
Steve frowns. "That disturbs me even more."  
  
"Shock and surprise."  
  
Sam's arm tightens. Steve tries not to fidget and fails miserably. He pulls at the plaid shirt he somehow thought to be flattering and shoves his other hand into his pocket. Nerves and giddy anticipation tighten his throat and numb his lungs, and that means nothing in the wake of a set up with the newest Freshman player.  
  
"James is over here," Natasha appears beside Sam with a laughing redhead at her side. She wraps her arm around the girls waist and squeezes. THe other touches Steves shoulder just once, gently. "Pepper found him by the drinks."  
  
Sam turns Steve around and pulls him towards the brightly lit bar. Natasha trails behind and speaks to the redhead in a soft voice. Steve scans the mash of bodies pouring drinks and laughing, most of them athletes of all genders with arms that can crush Steve like a twig. (It really should not be as much of a turnon as it is.)  
  
Bucky isn't at the bar anymore. He has a drink in one hand and a fistful of hair in the other. He's talking low to the man the hair belongs to, an easy smile on his face and an arch to his eyebrows. His date (hookup?) laughs at something and grabs Bucky's thigh.  
  
"Oh," says Steve. He digs his heels into the carpet and looks up to Sam. "He's busy."  
  
"Barton." Natasha sighs the name. Steve shrugs and hunches his shoulders. It lasts only a moment because familiar disappointment is a friend he's made peace with.  
  
"Sorry, Steve."  
  
"Don't worry, Sam. It's fine. He's nice to look at is all, it's not like I've pined." Bucky looks over his shoulder to them and grins wider. The dark haired man winks in easy conspiracy with Sam and goes back to his conversation with Barton.  
  
Sam apologizes again. It's the first time Steve meets Bucky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is sick. It's not very exciting but he does get hair pets from Natasha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days in and I'm already slacking! This is from yesterdays breaks - I didn't get a chance to post them. Today will be posted later.

The Winter is terrible and Steve hates it. He bundles up every time he even thinks about walking outside, he sips tea and takes zinc and vitamins, he even makes sure to keep his heater on to disgusting heights. It's all in the name of not falling ill and dying on his floor to the point where stray cats sneak in and eat what's left of his body. He thinks it's a rather lofty goal. He gets sick anyway.  
  
The cough doubles him over every hour or so. His voice sounds hoarse and yet slick with mucus, always burning at the back of his throat. Eveything makes his eyes red and sore, swollen. Even his hair hurts; each follicle pulls at his skin to send small spikes of irritation down his body. Tony doesn't answer his phone but his mother does. She's a wonderful human. Tony is a terrible boyfriend.  
  
"Go to the clinic," his mother says over the phone. She's as tired as Steve and still manages to insert the edge of steel into her words. "That's what we pay the school for. It's a clinic for students, you're a student, and you can't do your job if you can't talk."  
  
"The game isn't until Thursday," Steve says rather pathetically. The argument doesn't work. Sarah talks him into it with a relentless singlemindedness that reminds Steve he comes by his own nature quite honestly.  
  
Eventually he goes out of his apartment. He's wrapped in a thick scarf Logan made for him to match the hat bought second hand from a thrift store. Each hand has two layers of protection and he wears three pairs of socks to try and keep away the worst of the bite. It doesn't help that his shoes has holes in them or his coat is barely hanging on. He wears as many shirts as he can and takes out the metal in his eyebrows and ears. Steve grows out his hair for winter.  
  
The girl at the counter looks up with the jingle of the bell. He stomps his feet and pats off his jacket to rid of the snow that falls thick on the ground. Her frown turns to a wide-eyed slack expression for a split second as she takes in the high color to his cheeks and glassy eyes behind thick glasses. Steve stares at her, half delirious and mostly sick to his stomach.  
  
"I'm sick," he manages to say. That's when he runs outside without his hat or scarf and vomits into the trashcan there. He's not sure where the clinic bathroom is and it takes too long to figure out. The nurse follows him out with a soft 'tut' and covers him with a thick, scratchy blanket that will chafe. For the time being it is heaven. "Thank you."  
  
"You're very sick," She helps him straighten up. She doesn't even make a face at the trashcan and keeps her soft, accented voice gentle. Steven leans against her with what little weight he has left on him. Time fades down and away while he's taken into the clinic and back to the small, isolated room. He's rambling, mumbling out everything that's ever been wrong with him. She takes notes and plies him with things. "How are you still alive?"  
  
"Luck?" But then he's unconcious and it feels wonderful. He dreams of elephants like every good ill person. His late father is riding one of them, as young as he was when his picture was taken. Sarah stands beside a tiger made of neon lights and she says words Steve isn't able to make out.  
  
One of the elephants pokes him in the shoulder with it's trunk. Steve opens his eyes.  
  
"Hey, guy." Barton and Natasha hover over him. Clint's forehead wrinkles in concern, his bright eyes flickering all along Steve as if to reassure himself he's alive. Natasha keeps her gaze on Steve's, seemingly calm and unconcerned. "There you are. Simmons called us like three hours ago."  
  
"Since when am I your emergency contact?" Natasha puts a damp cloth to his head. It stings and is too cold, though he knows it is likely room temperature. "Isn't that supposed to be your mother?"  
  
Steve tries to talk. He croaks instead. He gives up after a minute and eventually signs in his clumsy, feverish way. _'Mom is in Brooklyn. You're here. She likes you.'_  
  
"That's dumb." But she touches his shoulder with soft fingertips. Clint grins and translates for her despite them all knowing Steve hears fine when he's like this. Steve always figures he likes knowing someone can understand him without his ear pieces like Natasha and Steve. "We're getting you your blanket and some proper things for your overnight here."  
  
 _'Overnight?'_  
  
 _'It's snowing,'_ Clint says, his broad shoulders rising in a shrug. ' _More than before. Also you're about to die if you stand up so Natasha sent someone to your house to get some stuff.'_  
  
"Oi," Someone says at the same time as the sharp bell of the clinics door. The nurse, Simmons, says something. Her voice proceeds light footsteps and Steve's door opening. Bucky Barnes fills his doorway, all broad shoulders and Steve's backpack over his shoulder. The newly dubbed 'Whiskie Soldier' skips over Steve with a flick of his lashes and looks only to Natasha and Clint. "Is he still asleep? I got his stuff."  
  
Bucky Barnes went into his apartment. Steve tries to muster up the ability to feel awkward about the huge art prints and how his living room smells of oils and charcoal. Feelings beyond exhaustion and pain are too far past so he flops pathetically. Natasha pets his hair.  
  
"He's awake," Barton takes the bag from Bucky and puts it to the foot of the bed. "Bucky, this is Steve."  
  
Bucky looks over and smiles, a brief, casual thing. "Hey, Steve."  
  
Steve waves with two fingers. Bucky and Clint chat for a minute, Natasha gets a few sharp witty comments in, and Bucky leaves. Steve falls asleep. He's not quite sure it's the best second meeting with Bucky Barnes but at least this time Clint is on his side and Bucky has his tongue free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third meeting and final meeting - Bucky is kind of a dick and it's a thing that happens. Hurrah for coffee shops, possible meet cutes, and swearing.   
> Warnings: Swearing, hockey related injuries, and Bruce being a dork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterdays chapter would have literally been the first three lines to this one. I've combined the two! Also, YAY 12 DAYS IS FEELING BETTER
> 
> Have your awkward meet-cute maybe thing, friend.

"Bucky, this is Steve," Banner smiles at Steve in his small crooked way. Steve nods and looks across the room to Tony. Loud and laughing, the inventor acts as if he'd not been broken up with earlier that day. Asshole. Bucky glances up from his notebook and lifts his pen in greeting. "Clint's friend?"  
  
"Sure, hey." Bucky smiles, flicks his pen in a small mock salute, and looks back down at his text book. "Great to meet you."  
  
"We've met before," Steve says to him. Bucky hums in response, the non-commital sort of thing someone not listening does. "Last year."  
  
"Yeah?" Another look up from under thick lashes. "Sorry, man, I don't remember. I had a lot of concussions last year."  
  
"Right," Steve shifts. Banner rolls his eyes. "Hockey."  
  
"Clint's friend?"  
  
"Yeah." Steve shoves his hands into his pockets. Tony says something to make everyone around him burst into laughter. Steve hunches his shoulders instead and looks away from Bucky to concentrate on his sneakers.  
  
The three fall silent for the most awkward twenty seconds of Steves life. Banner makes an excuse for him and Steve to vanish. They do.  
  
Bucky mumbles a goodbye and keeps his eyes on the book.  
  
  
\-----  
  
  
"Shit and fuck." Bucky struggles with his textbooks, his teeth grinding together. The too-tight sling pulls at his shirt collar. It fucking hurts. Students mill all around him with their coffees and bookbags. They ignore the tall brunet and his neon pink sling swearing at the heavy books precariously held in the crook of his right arm. "Fuck you, you fucking shit papers."  
  
"I think you need a man purse," A barista peers around the cash register at him, her tapered nails tapping against the countertop. Bucky shoots her a flat look and drops his books on the counter a bit too close to her fingers. "No, really. I call it a side bag and people get all huffy about their masculinity so it's a man purse."  
  
"I'm not sure how man purse is any better."  
  
"It has the word 'man' in it?" SHe shrugs and smiles any way. "What can I get you, Whiskie?"  
  
Right. Hockey. Despite being in a fucking clinic for god knows how long, at least he can still be considered a hockey player. Bucky misses the ice. He misses not having metal pins in his arms. (And he doesn't fucking regret the slam of the goal post or Wards elbow into his sternum because they won the game from the shot he made a split second before.)  
  
"Chai, shot of gingerbread and extra chai. Uh, the big size, I'm fucking done."  
  
"I took the exact same order with soy like five seconds ago. That's fantastic. If you want, we can keep an empty bar seat for you there," She points. Her nametag says Darcy. "SO you can toss your stuff and drink in peace."  
  
Bucky hesitates and holds out his card. She runs it through in silence. It helps him force out the words "Thanks, that would be great" and smile at her the way he used to before bruising his face half to hell and blowing out his shoulder. "It's because of the hockey, isn't it? You treat us all special."  
  
She laughs and holds down his receipt for him to sign. "It's for the behind the scenes where you all walk around in those tights. Rawr."  
  
He can't disagree about the tights. Bucky appreciates them when no one is looking and he feels like shit after. Except for that one party easily blown off as a romp through the Freshman year of ridiculousness, Bucky keeps his dick to himself.  
  
It's for the best.  
  
So he winks at her and accepts her help when she pushes his books against his chest. Bucky holds onto it for dear life and edges his way through the crowd to the counter.   
  
True to Darcys word, she has her coworker leave a seat empty by marking the counter with a big fucking thing of soy milk. Bucky nudges at it - it's empty - and puts his books down with a soft noise. Ow and fuck and he wants his drugs. (He knows hockey players should brush this shit off, and he DOES damnit, but even the toughest of players are allowed to be whiny fucks sometimes.)  
  
Someone says his order. Bucky jumps out of the seat and grabs for the drink.  
  
Yeah, so, that's when his hand hits some small kids shoulder and nearly spills the drink right onto the blonds light blue shirt.  
  
"Shit-" The kid says in a voice way too deep."Sorry. Are you okay?"  
  
This time when Bucky Barnes looks up to Steve Rogers and those ridiculously pretty eyes, he remembers him.


End file.
